


the kindest lie

by grimark



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Angst, Demons, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-02 23:50:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5268527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimark/pseuds/grimark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bull fears being possessed by a demon. He figures out a solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the kindest lie

Contrary to what his Ben Hassrath rank might have suggested, Bull does not actually make a habit of lying. This doesn’t mean he always tells the truth. He keeps secrets, he makes implications, he manipulates circumstances to his advantage. Leave enough to the imagination, and people will fill in the blanks to suit themselves.

\--

More than almost any other thing in the world, Bull is fucking terrified of demons. This would seem like a drawback in a guy whose job description these days is mostly helping kill demons, but in his defense, he hadn't expected that when he signed up.

You get used to it eventually- seeing demons, warped and writhing bodies pouring out of a rift, seething and hungry for blood. Still a sight to put a guy off his lunch, but Bull's figured out what to do about them. It turns out that when you hit it with a massive fuck-off battle axe, a demon makes the same satisfying meaty _thud_ as any Tal Vashoth bandit Bull has ever fought. Kind of comforting, really.

The sort of demons Bull doesn't know how to deal with are the ones they see at Adamant. At the time he'd been too shit scared to think much beyond where his axe needed to go next, but later he sat and gave it some consideration.

They'd walked in the Fade. Dorian had been spitting with envy when they got back. Vivienne had been silently smug at him until eventually he capitulated in whatever subtle and complex battle the two of them fought, and then she deigned to lead him off to her rooms to tell him about what had happened.

Afterwards, Dorian had tried to explain it to Bull.

"You walked in the Fade, with your physical bodies. I'd be more excited about it if I were you, it's practically unheard of! Completely different to what you do when you dream, of course. Surely you noticed the difference?"

"I wouldn't know," said Bull. "Never done it."

Dorian was momentarily taken aback, so much so that he allowed it to show on his face. Bull gave himself a mental pat on the back.

"What do you mean, you've never dreamed?" Dorian demanded.

"Just what I said. It's a Qunari thing, don’t worry about it."

"I _know_ that's not true," said Dorian. "I know for a fact you have mages. You have to dream."

Bull let Dorian try to interrogate him a little longer, but had already decided not to explain. They weren't exactly friends, after all. At best they were begrudging allies with some promising sexual tension. At worst- well, worry about that if and when it came to pass.

Eventually Dorian got bored and took himself off, presumably to find someone more forthcoming to pester. Probably Varric, since the Inquisitor was still in a meeting with her advisors. Bull didn't think Dorian would get anything about the trip to the fade out of either of them that he hadn't already gotten from Vivienne, but you had to give him points for trying.

\--

("Tama," says little Ashkaari, "Tama, what do I do if I meet a demon?")

\--

The first time they fucked, Dorian hadn't stuck around for long. Bull has to admit he was a bit disappointed by that. He liked to luxuriate in the afterglow, liked to make sure his partner was all properly settled back in their head, liked to shoot the shit or even just cuddle up and drift off together. It was a little closer to emotional intimacy than anything he'd ever had before coming to the south, and he liked the forbidden luxury of it. Plus, it increased your chances of getting another round in once you were both a bit rested.

But Dorian is obviously the sort of guy who liked to make a quick getaway. The smear of cum on Bull's stomach hadn’t even dried before Dorian was dressed and out the door, pausing to thank him for a diverting evening. _Diverting_. As if it'd been some piss-weak high society soirée, instead of three loud and enjoyable orgasms.

The next couple of times were no different. Unusual enough that there had been a next couple of times, though. Bull hadn't expected it, but he sure as hell wasn't complaining. Dorian was a decent guy to talk to, handy in a fight, and an excellent lay. He did, in Bull's estimation, seem a bit like the type to get overly attached. This was a concern, but Bull figured he'd keep an eye out for that sort of thing, and put a stop to it if the big guy looked like he was getting kinda mushy.

\--

There is something there lately, lurking around the edges of Bull's unconscious mind. He remembers the tombstones, way back at Adamant. _Madness_ , his had said. Predictable, but not exactly wrong. Bull fears a loss of control. He fears a mind that’s not his own.

It was the story told to all imekaari to keep them in line- without the Qun, you are a mindless beast. To become Tal Vashoth is to give in to madness.

Bull had lived with lurking shadows for years now. This one would not get the best of him.

\--

"Killing demons? It's nothing," says Dorian. "You know how to kill a demon, the Inquisitor has us fighting them all the time."

"No, I don't mean-" Bull gestures vaguely, not entirely sure of what he is trying to indicate. "I mean like when you're sleeping. In the Fade."

"Oh, _that_ ," says Dorian dismissively. "Well, that's a little more of a task, since you're meeting them in their natural element. Best idea is just to avoid them, really, but if you run into one, it's essentially a battle of wills."

"You've done it before, then?" Bull asks, curious and a little apprehensive.

"Oh, I should think so," says Dorian. "Plenty of times. It's one of those things you get used to, as a mage. No, most demons are no match for me."

\--

When Bull sleeps, he doesn't enter the Fade. He's not exactly an expert on the subject, but it's not anything like it was at Adamant.

He thinks he's dreaming, like regular people do, people who aren't mages. People who aren't Qunari, who haven't been trained since childhood to suppress such things.

All of the dreams Bull remembers having in his life have been of Seheron. Violent images born of soul-sickness, slipping through the cracks in his control. Screams and burning bodies. He thinks that would almost be preferable to what he dreams of now.

\--

("You must kill it, imekaari," says Tama, placing a hand between where Ashkaari's horns will one day grow in.

"But what if I'm not strong enough to kill it, Tama? What if it gets inside of me?"

"Then," says Tama, "you must find someone strong enough to kill it for you.")

\--

The something in the corner of his mind is circling closer.

It wouldn’t have troubled Hissrad, tool of the Qunari, or the Iron Bull, tool of Hissrad. Just Bull, though, Bull the Tal Vashoth, cast adrift and searching for purpose- he finds he’s having a little trouble.

There are so many fragments to him now, so many gaps and uncertainties, places where a demon could force its way in. So many ways it could make him _let_ it.

_You’re weak now. Alone for the first time. Poor little Ashkaari has to decide a purpose for himself_.

That isn’t true. Bull has to fight for the Inquisition. To help defeat Corypheus. He has a new place now.

_And afterwards, what? You are a traitor and a coward. How long before you turn on your new-found friends and kill them all?_

Not going to happen. Bull has always been strong. That much is still the same.

_What if you could change things? What if your people welcomed you back with open arms?_

Doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. Asit tal eb.

_What if I relieved you of the burden of choice? After all, that’s what you want, isn’t it? The Qun, the Inquisitior, so many different ways to give yourself up. Let me in, and you will never have to worry about making the wrong choice again_.

\--

"Wanna come for a drink?" Bull asks, clapping a hand on Dorian's shoulder.

"Certainly," says Dorian. "Whatever you and the Chargers are having will do."

"Chargers aren't here," says Bull. "I was thinking more along the lines of just you and me and a bottle of Cabot's meanest. We could go sit up on the battlements or something."

"Won't it be cold?" Dorian asks, a distasteful twist to his mouth. This, however, is not an outright rejection, and Bull knows Dorian well enough by now to recognise the significance of that.

"You'll have to cuddle up close to me, then," says Bull.

They do move out to the battlements, out of the way of the guards. Bull pulls Dorian close to him, good as his word, and Dorian lets himself be pulled. They pass a bottle back and forth and look at the stars.

Dorian tells him stories about what they are thought to mean in Tevinter. Bull suspects he's making a couple of them up, or maybe ancient Tevinter mythology just has a lot more drama and improbable sex acts than what he's used to.

"This is nice," Bull says after a while. Dorian's leaned in to rest his head on Bull's shoulder. 

"Hey, Dorian?" Bull says. Use his name. Don't call him big guy or Sparkler or mage boy or 'vint. "I know you're not a big fan of the whole public displays of affection thing-"

"It isn't you," Dorian says quickly. "It's just the product of habit, that's all."  Dorian cares about Bull's feelings, doesn't want him to get the wrong idea and feel hurt. This is a good thing to know.

"No, it's fine, I get that," says Bull. "I was thinking- well, this is turning into more than just sex, isn't it?"

"If you think I'd sit up here, freezing my arse off, for someone I was having 'just sex' with, you're mistaken," says Dorian.

Bull smiles.

“Come back to my room with me?” he asks.

Dorian is very quick at getting his clothes off, and would be quicker still if Bull didn’t keep interrupting him. Interrupting Dorian is fun, though, and Bull’s never seen the point in moving too quickly.

He presses Dorian up against a wall, pinning him there with the weight of his body, and kisses him. Gently, the way that makes Dorian squirm uncomfortably and avoid his gaze, like if he lets himself be treated with too much kindness, someone will come and take it away from him again. Bull has noticed this, the way he notices everything about Dorian, about everyone, and he intends to use it.

Dorian always wants to make things fast and hard, but Bull lays him out on the bed and touches him with thick, clever fingers. He holds himself back and refuses to do all of the things he really wants until Dorian is swearing at him, impatient, overwhelmed.

“How do you want it?” says Bull. “You could ride me. Order me to go on my knees for you. You could let me turn you over and do what I liked to you.”

“The last one,” says Dorian, raising himself up on his elbows to gaze up at Bull. He looks pretty wrecked and Bull’s barely touched him yet. This, Bull thinks, is going to be _fun_.

Bull turns Dorian over, as asked. Then he slips off the bed and kneels on the floor, because he likes to be perverse, in more ways than one. He bites Dorian’s ass a little, just to let him know what he’s in for.

“This is not what I asked for,” says Dorian.

“No, it’s not,” Bull agrees. “You know the word.”

Dorian wriggles back to present himself better. For all his coy talk, he’s pretty keen.

Bull likes eating Dorian out. He is a beguiling combination of shy and brazen, and so responsive beneath Bull's fingers and tongue. Sometimes it's a means to an end, to get him ready for Bull's cock, but just as often he performs the act for its own sake, and for the sake of seeing Dorian writhing face down on the bed, too desperate to bother stifling his noises or hiding his pleasure. Bull likes that. Sex can be a game, sure, but he likes when it's a straightforward one where he knows all the rules. Putting up with someone playing hard to get has never been his style.

Bull wonders whether he could get Dorian to come from his tongue alone, licking him open and fucking into him just like that. He doesn't try that tonight, instead takes mercy and reaches around to stroke Dorian's cock. It takes very little of this sort of attention before Dorian is coming, moaning into the mattress.

"You wanna suck me off for a bit?" Bull offers. "Make it good and I'll fuck you as soon as we're both hard again."

Dorian sits up and pauses, pursing his mouth like he's considering it, but they both know it's a forgone conclusion.

Dorian seems to really enjoy sucking Bull's cock. Bull isn't exactly sure why, but he's not going to complain. It probably helps that Dorian's good at it, the show-off, and that Bull makes sure to tell him so. He seems to relish every noise Bull makes, to take special pride in the times he makes Bull lose his tightly-held control and fuck into his mouth with abandon.

That's not quite what's happening, though. It's more a case of Bull assessing the situation, deciding Dorian's eager and relaxed enough to take it, and thrusting just enough to make him choke a bit, and never too much. Dorian likes the fantasy of being conquered. Bull is pretty sure he wouldn't like the reality.

Bull decides to try something new that night. He thinks Dorian's probably ready for it. When Dorian sits up from the bed and begins to look around for his clothes, Bull reaches out to stop him.

"You remember what I said earlier? About this being more than sex?"

Dorian freezes. Bull wonders if he's misjudged the situation, but as he strokes a hand down Dorian's arm he relaxes again.

"Stay?" Bull asks.

With Dorian's warm presence curled up at his side, Bull doesn't dream of anything at all.

\--

Dorian sometimes does this trick when he’s fighting things, some freaky necromancer death magic bullshit. It’s showy, like everything else he ever does, but it doesn't become obvious until the spell is already cast, until it rushes towards its target in a smear of purple light, until the poor fucker who'd got in the way is reduced to a shower of blood and bits.

If he ever gets possessed, Bull thinks that’s the way he'd like to go. Fast, inexorable, impossible to dodge. He doesn’t imagine Dorian would be happy to do it. The sentimental streak which has served Bull so well would hold him back when it really mattered.

But Dorian is experienced with demons, and knows just how dangerous they can be. He might set Bull on fire, then, or run him through with his staff blade. Less dramatic, but still a quick death. It would not leave nearly so much of a mess.

\--

The teacup looks absurd in Bull's hand, its delicate porcelain handle grasped between first finger and thumb. Vivienne eyes him calmly over the rim of her own cup. She’s the closest thing to a tamassran he’s got, these days.

"May I ask you something, ma'am?" says Bull. Vivienne inclines her head, indicating for him to go on.

Bull takes a sip of tea, stalling for time. It’s a refined and flavoursome leaf of the sort Bull himself rarely encounters, as befits Vivienne's position. But it's brewed weakly, in the style of the common folk. An attempt to make it go further, then. Even in these times of growing influence, Skyhold is often pressed for supplies.

"Is it possible for a non-mage to get possessed by demons?" Bull asks.

Vivienne levels him with a look that is entirely too astute. "Have you been reminiscing on our experiences at Adamant, darling?"

Bull winces. "Maybe a little."

"Well, to put your mind at ease- yes, it's perfectly possible, but like the Tranquil, there is very little about a non-mage that would interest a demon enough to bother. Does that answer your question?"

"Yeah," says Bull, although it brings up several new ones.

"If you would like to know more about demons, maybe you should talk to Dorian about it."

Bull ducks his head, hiding his smile in a display of bashfulness that is only partially feigned. "I couldn't ask him. Give him the slightest indication I wanted to hear about all that magic crap and he'd talk my ear off."

"He does go on, doesn't he? Still, I think he would appreciate you asking. Showing an interest in his life's work and so forth. Between the two of us, I think he is rather embarrassingly smitten."

"Yeah," Bull agrees. That’s good, probably for the both of them. Dorian has spent his whole life longing for someone to expend that emotional energy on, someone who wouldn't take it and throw it back in his face, and now Bull is fulfilling that requirement. It seemed only fair that Bull got an additional benefit out of their relationship, too.

\--

“Amatus,” Dorian gasps, arms around Bull's neck, legs around his waist. The word sounds like it’s torn out of him, like maybe he didn't mean to say it just yet.

“Hey,” says Bull- later, when their breathing has slowed and their sweat has cooled. “I miss you, the nights you don’t stay.”

This is the truth, or as near as Bull will ever tell it.

\--

It's night time, but the moon hangs huge in the sky, and the restless ocean catches its light. He feels the sand, damp and dark beneath bare feet, exactly as he remembers.

It's quiet here. This is not how he remembers.

There's something whispering, whispering in the corners of his mind. Could be just the wind, but the night is still.  It itches to come closer, and sink its filthy fingers into all the dark places of his mind. He won't let it. This place is in the past, the blood and the screaming and the Tal Vashoth ambush on the beach, none of that is real, just like the demon lying in wait isn’t real either.

There's something keeping it away. It's scared, but not of him. His sleeping self is defenseless. But there's someone else nearby, some immense and slumbering power just out of sight. It’s made of fire and fear and an immense force of will. The thing that whispers in the darkness doesn't want to draw its attention.

Bull allows himself to smile. He has turned the circumstances to his advantage, and so far, he is winning.

\--

They're slogging their way through the Fallow Mire, which is never fun, but at least the company is decent. Varric is up front, regaling the Inquisitor with a story that might even be true. That leaves Dorian walking with Bull, slotting into the space beside him like he belongs there.

They walk in silence, mostly, interspersed with the occasional quiet grumble from Dorian, but that doesn't bother Bull. He's figured out by now that the complaining is mostly for appearances, anyway.

When they make camp that night, the Inquisitor invites Dorian to share a tent with her. He does not refuse. That leaves Bull and Varric to bunk down together.

It makes sense from a logistical standpoint. Put the biggest member of the party in with the smallest. Besides, Varric isn’t a bad guy to share a tent with. He’s quiet, considerate, and doesn’t take up too much space. Bull would still rather be sharing a tent with Dorian. Dorian is a shameless blanket thief, but he makes up for it in other ways.

Bull pitches his and Varric’s tent close to Dorian and the Inquisitor’s. He hopes it’s close enough.

The party eats a hasty meal of dried meat and days-old bread while discussing plans for the next day. They turn in almost before the sun hits the horizon. The Boss wants an early start.

Bull is out as soon as he’s lying down, a skill born of long years spent grabbing what little rest he could, wherever he could. This is another part of Seheron’s legacy.

He finds himself waking not long after, to the sensation of cold fingers stroking down the side of his face.

_You can’t hide behind him forever. One day he won’t be there, and that will be it for you, little Ashkaari._

He does not sleep again that night.


End file.
